


Out of Time

by Kagedtiger



Series: Time 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagedtiger/pseuds/Kagedtiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Future Bliss." Two years later, the pon farr finally catches up with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, a big thank you to the Vulcan Language Dictionary for the unfamiliar words I had to go and pick out myself. Secondly, the Memory Alpha archive's entry on pon farr says that in current Star Trek canon, female Vulcans also go into pon farr. I think this is stupid and directly contradicts the canon established in "Amok Time," so I'm ignoring it. So there. As far as I can tell, they only say so in the Enterprise series anyway, and I resent that series' need to over-sexualize T'Pol. So Enterprise can suck it. And finally, this story was originally going to be NC-17, but a graphic sex scene did not seem to fit with the tone of the rest of the story. It has, however, been written as a separate drabble, to be posted later. (So don't worry, if you were worried.) And now, on with the fic.

Two years was a long time to put something off, but somehow they managed to never mention it. It would occur to Kirk occasionally, especially in the times when the psychic bond with his first officer was particularly unpleasant or inconvenient, that they could always get it removed. But the thought always faded quickly, and time and again the bond proved itself more useful than inconvenient, a great asset in many situations, and so thoughts of ending it occurred only very rarely.  
  
Kirk learned that there was a lot one could grow accustomed to. It no longer seemed even slightly strange to have Spock's presence constantly in the back of his mind. Their newfound awareness of one another made it easy to spend time together, and around their bond, whether because of or in spite of it, a friendship grew, real and honest, and cemented naturally what had been shoved on them artificially.  
  
Kirk had grown so accustomed to the behavior of his first officer that almost nothing the Vulcan did could surprise him anymore. When it did, the surprise was always the greater for it. Which was why Kirk was nearly bowled off his feet when, after no more warning than a few days of vaguely nervous sensations from Spock, he entered the Vulcan's quarters only to hear Spock say quietly, "We need to end this now, my friend. Our time has run out."  
  
It took Kirk only a matter of seconds to parse Spock's meaning. "You're going into pon farr. We need to get you back to the colonies."  
  
Spock inclined his head in a nod. "As soon as possible."  
  
"But..." Kirk did some quick calculations in his head. "At our current distance, it'll take us a week to get back."  
  
"I know." Spock's eyes burned into his. "As soon as possible, Jim. We must hurry."  
  
His eyes on Spock, Kirk made his way to the communications panel by the door and punched in the bridge. "Bridge, this is the captain. Mr. Chekov, plot a course for the Vulcan colonies, and lay in immediately at maximum warp. Whichever one's closest. Remus, preferably."  
  
"But Captain," came the voice, "our orders-"  
  
"I know," Kirk cut him off. "I'll clear it with Command later. Just lay in the course and get us there as quickly as possible. Kirk out." He took his hand off the panel and stood, watching his first officer. Spock was sitting in the middle of his bed, eyes closed once more, in a meditational position.  
  
"Why did you wait?" Kirk asked. After two years of being bonded, he hardly needed to clarify his question for Spock to understand.  
  
"I wasn't sure it was going to happen," said Spock serenely. "It should have happened sooner. I had hoped that my human blood might spare us this. But as you predicted, the ancient drives are too strong. There can be no more holding it back."  
  
"I should've felt this." Kirk's voice was angry, but only because of the guilt he felt. He knew Spock could feel that guilt, and would not hold the anger against him. "Why didn't I?"  
  
"I have been suppressing it to some extent. As best I could, at any rate. It is only now beginning to come on fully. No, Jim."  
  
This last was because Kirk had started forward, intending to sit next to him on the bed. Kirk stopped, startled. In the past six months or so, he'd gotten used to extended physical contact, at least when they were alone. Whether conversing or just relaxing, it had become habit for the two of them to sit back to back, or side by side with their legs touching. Physical contact greatly strengthened the intensity of sensation in the bond, and having such an intimate awareness of each others' thoughts led to extremely easy and rewarding conversation. To have such contact taken from him now was hurtful to Kirk, and he frowned.  
  
"If you touch me, Jim, there will be no stopping it," Spock explained. "I am already too far gone. You said once you did not wish to be my wife." His eyes opened, to impress his seriousness upon Kirk. "We must get used to this while we can. The lack of physical contact will be nothing to the dissolution of the bond. You must re-accustom yourself to being alone."  
  
"What about you?" Kirk asked. He felt like a child, wanted to throw a temper tantrum and scream and cry and throw things. He didn't want to quietly give up the bond that had carried them through two years of missions, the bond that had let Spock know whenever Kirk was in trouble, and send help, the bond that had let him peer beneath the surface of his first officer, and read the emotions that no one else even knew existed, let alone could interpret.  
  
"I will bond with whatever female is chosen for me upon my arrival. The marriage bond will form the instant we touch, and then the ceremony that consummates it will occur immediately afterwards. Jim..." Spock hesitated, and Kirk knew he wanted to ask something personal, an event that, even now, was rare and uncomfortable for Spock.  
  
Kirk just waited, and eventually Spock said, "Would you ensure the choosing of a suitable mate for me? My father knows this will be happening, and no doubt has selected someone, but I will be in no condition to ensure that his choice will be appropriate for me. You know me better than anyone else. I know this choice will be a burden to you, but..."  
  
"Of course, Spock," Kirk said, smiling. Once again he had to resist the urge step forward and touch Spock, lay a hand on his shoulder. "Of course I will."  
  
"Thank you," said Spock simply. His eyes closed, and he returned to his meditational state. Kirk remained for a few minutes longer, watching him. Spock didn't really feel any different to Kirk, which surprised him. He would've thought the pon farr effect would be far more noticeable, given its strength. But if Spock said the time had come, Kirk trusted him.  
  
 _"When the Time comes, I will await you."_  
  
Kirk felt his heart wrench. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to give up this bond. But he had to. He couldn't very well go and marry his first officer. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. And logically, he knew that this was the soundest decision, and that there would be a lot of benefits to ending the bond.  
  
But Kirk had never been particularly logical, much to Spock's dismay and eventual fondness.   
  
Kirk let himself out of Spock's room and made his way back towards his own cabin at a slow pace. He tried to think about the pros of dissolving the bond, to concentrate on them. Surely there were some.  
  
Well, he'd be able to have sex again, for one. Nearly two years ago now, when Spock had broken off his relationship with Uhura to spare Kirk the pain and embarrassment of having to vicariously experience their sexual activities, it hadn't really occurred to Kirk that this meant that Kirk himself would also not be able to have sex.  
  
He'd still tried to, at first. Within the following three months he'd had six different girls, unable to help himself. But each time the pain and reproach from Spock, the reminder of what he'd given up for Kirk's sake, left him with a terrible guilt afterwards. His encounters became fewer and far between, until, at the end of their first year together, they'd stopped entirely. In the two years since the bond, Kirk had had sex only nine times. Since he'd stopped seeing Uhura, Spock had had sex only two. And for one of them he'd been drugged.  
  
So yeah. Sex would be nice. He missed sex. He really missed sex. But... but dammit, he'd had something better than sex! He'd had a companion, a constant presence, someone who understood him like no one else possibly could. And though Kirk wasn't sure he really wanted to admit it, the depth of the bond he had with Spock made the shallow physical encounters he'd had previously pale in comparison. They were... incidental. Meant nothing. The bond meant something. The bond was important, and now...  
  
Kirk remembered how alone he'd felt when they'd last tried to separate the bond, only months after it had been formed. How lonely, like the only person in the entire world. How much stronger would the separation be now, after two years? Could he survive it? Well, supposedly the Vulcan Elders would know, anyway. But what if they couldn't separate the bond? What if it had grown too strong for them? Wouldn't it be all the stronger now that the pon farr was approaching?  
  
For the first time in a long time, Kirk was genuinely afraid. No matter what happened, something big and fundamental was about to change in his life. He could only hope he was prepared.  
  
  
  
Spock resumed his duties that afternoon at the beginning of his shift as though nothing had happened. Things proceeded as usual, the crew functioning with their usual speed and efficiency. Kirk and Spock made a special effort to stand a reasonable distance away from each other, so that they would not accidentally touch. When they went off shift, things were still more or less normal, although a little more tense than usual. Kirk had some difficulty falling asleep, but not for too long.  
  
By the time their shift came up the following morning, however, there was not even a hope of normalcy. Kirk sat in the captain's chair, feeling as though the surface of his skin was tingling all over.  
  
Doctor McCoy stepped off the lift, preoccupied by some paperwork on a clipboard in front of him. When he looked up, his expression changed to one of puzzlement. "Where's Spock?" he asked. "It's time for his scheduled physical."  
  
"I've confined him to quarters," said Kirk. It was difficult for him to concentrate on what other people were saying, but he could manage with some effort.  
  
"Confined? Why?" asked the doctor.  
  
Kirk was at something of a loss. He couldn't exactly cite medical reasons. It would be very bad indeed if McCoy tried to examine Spock. Dimly, a memory not his reminded him,  
  
 _"You will cease to pry into my personal affairs, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck."_  
  
No. McCoy should not be examining Spock. "Vulcan holiday," Kirk invented instead. "Very important day of- week of rest. He must remain cloistered for it."  
  
McCoy raised an eyebrow at him, very obviously not buying it. "He didn't take any leave last year."  
  
"Yes, well," said Kirk. "He converted. Found religion. It was very sudden. Just- nevermind."  
  
"Uh... huh..." said McCoy slowly. "Alright then. You let him know that whenever he's done communing with the void or whatever, he should see me in sickbay. He owes me a physical to keep his medical records up to date."  
  
"Will do, Bones," Kirk assured, relieved that the doctor wasn't going to continue to press questions on him. "Sure. I'll let him know."  
  
McCoy frowned at him. "You don't look so hot either. Why don't you come and see me at the end of your shift."  
  
Kirk nodded, wishing McCoy would just leave already. "Sure, yeah. Okay."  
  
McCoy gave him one last suspicious look, before heading out the way he came.  
  
  
  
"You have a bit of a fever," McCoy told him later with a frown as he let Kirk up from the sickbay cot. "Maybe you should stay here overnight for observation."  
  
"I'm fine, Bones," said Kirk. Spock was meditating again, which meant Kirk was very nearly capable of holding a civil conversation once more. "I'm just a little... stressed, is all."  
  
"Yeah, well, if this stress keeps up much longer, I may be forced to take you off duty. Spock can come up out of his sacred voodoo to take over for a day."  
  
"No!" said Kirk, panicked, and then winced as he realized how that must have sounded.  
  
McCoy sighed. "Jim, I think it's time you level with me. What in the moons of Jupiter is going on?"  
  
Kirk echoed the sigh, pressing his hands together between his knees. The pressure of Spock's pon farr had gotten steadily worse over the course of the day, making it harder and harder for Kirk to concentrate on anything except the Vulcan's desperate, seeking need. McCoy was probably right. Even if Kirk was fit to command now, he wouldn't be in the next few days. And if it was this bad for him, how bad must it be for Spock, at the source? How terrible the heat, the need, the-  
  
"Jim."  
  
Kirk realized that he had started to stand up, intending to go to Spock's room. It wasn't the first time he'd caught himself on the verge of doing that today. He sat down again.  
  
"Bones, I don't know what to... how to..." Kirk rubbed his temples. "You're right. I should probably go off duty for a few days. But Spock can't take over. He's in no condition for it."  
  
"He's sick?" asked McCoy sharply. "Jim, you should've told me. I should go examine-"  
  
"No," said Kirk firmly. "We know what's wrong, and it's nothing you can fix. It's nothing he can spread, or anything, only-" Kirk swallowed. "It can spread to me, I can't explain why, but I'm getting sort of... secondary symptoms, to what he has. I can't go near him for the next few days. If I do, I'll catch it, and that would be... that would be... bad..." Would it? He was becoming less and less sure. Surely anything that relieved this horrible need couldn't be bad. Spock wanted, wanted so badly. And hadn't Kirk promised? Hadn't he said he would wait? Hadn't he-  
  
"Jim! Sit down!" Kirk felt McCoy's hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down on the cot. "Don't make me restrain you."  
  
Kirk groaned. "You may have to lock me up. Until we get to the Vulcan colonies, I cannot be allowed to see Spock, do you understand? You have the authority to stop me. The medical jurisdiction. Make sure I don't see him. Please."  
  
"Jim..." McCoy sat down again in his stool next to the cot. "What's going on?"  
  
"It's Spock's place to tell you, not mine," insisted Kirk. "If you can get it out of him, fine. Otherwise, I can't tell you."  
  
"You are both completely incorrigible," McCoy huffed. "Fine. I'm ordering the medical confinement of both of you to your quarters. Your  _separate_  quarters. Until we reach the colonies. Satisfied?"  
  
"Thank you Bones," said Kirk sincerely.  
  
"Sure." McCoy didn't sound very pleased, but waved Kirk off. "So get on with it, then."   
  
Kirk slid off the cot gratefully and made his way back to his quarters.   
  
  
  
He had thought that sleep, at least, would allow him some reprieve from the constant presence of Spock's need. But sleep was slow to come, leaving him tossing and turning in a room that felt far too hot, even on his bare skin. And when it did come, it brought no relief.  
  
"Spock?" Kirk knew he was dreaming, or at least was pretty sure. He was in a desert of some kind, it seemed, although nothing that looked like any earth desert he'd ever seen. The sand was a dull red color, with rocks jutting out here and there from the ground, sometimes a smooth walking surface, sometimes an angry-looking unscalable crag. He couldn't see Spock, but he knew the Vulcan was nearby because he could feel him.  
  
He was naked, the desert oddly sweltering, although it was night. It was night, and yet Kirk could see perfectly, as though at high noon. The ambient light seemed to come from nowhere at all, reflecting off the rocks but doing nothing to obscure the millions and millions of stars overhead. Kirk stared at them, turning slowly, then nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around and found Spock standing behind him, less than a foot away.  
  
"Spock!" he yelped in surprise. The Vulcan's face was sorrowful, far more expression than its waking counterpart ever wore. He reached out a hand towards Kirk, but Kirk flinched away, taking several hurried steps backwards. "No," he yelled, although he was not sure what he was protesting. "No, Spock. We can't. We can't, Spock."  
  
"Please..." Spock's voice was low and rough, and so full of need that Kirk collapsed to his knees under the weight of it, still shaking his head.  
  
"We can't," he repeated weakly, even as Spock's hand stretched forward, reaching desperately for him.  
  
"I need!" Spock groaned. "I need! Please! Please! Jim, I  _need_..."  
  
Kirk just continued shaking his head, unable to speak over the depth of grief and want. His body was shaking, terrified, as Spock's hand reached for him, reached closer. His terror grew as Spock's touch drew nearer, until finally the hand came to rest on his bare chest, over his heart, and it hurt, hurt like a hot brand against his skin, made him writhe in pain as the heat suffused him, invaded him.  
  
And then Spock was no longer in front of him but behind him, his naked arms wrapped around Kirk's chest, tight like iron bands, bare chest flush against Kirk's back. Kirk struggled, tried to run, but he could only burn himself on Spock's flesh. Nothing was safe. The need was too strong. There was no escape. He needed. He  _needed_!  
  
Kirk woke up, painfully hard, and covered in a cold sweat. He only had to stroke himself twice before he came with a harsh, shuddering sob, feeling desperate and afraid.  
  
  
  
The next several days only got worse. It didn't help that Kirk had nothing to occupy him. He was bored and restless, despite how little sleep he was getting, and desperate for Spock's company. Though how much of that last was real loneliness and how much of it was the pon farr reaching out towards him, Kirk couldn't tell. By the third day he was having a difficult time physically restraining himself from going over to Spock's room. Mid day on the third day, he gave in as much as he dared and used his computer to call Spock. He didn't dare come into real, physical proximity with the Vulcan, but he missed his friend desperately.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said when Spock appeared on the viewscreen. "I know I shouldn't be. I need to get used to- but, I need-"  
  
"I know," said Spock, cutting him off. He looked about as tired and harried as Kirk - really looked it, rather than just felt it. And that was frightening. "I understand. It is alright."  
  
Kirk nodded distractedly. Of course Spock understood. Spock always understood.  
  
Somehow, even in the midst of everything, it was remarkably easy to talk to Spock. At first they talked around the issue, revisiting old favorite topics of conversation, unhurried, enjoying each other's company. They circled the immediate concern, spiraling in towards it, drawing closer and closer as though pulled by an irresistible gravity. There was no need to talk about how they felt - that was clear enough. But gradually, they made their way to the subject of the impending wedding.  
  
"So," said Kirk. "Tell me about the ceremony. What happens after I okay your bride?"  
  
"I thought you said you'd already seen one?" Spock asked teasingly. Kirk was the only person that Spock ever teased. Kirk frowned at him. He was fairly certain that Spock knew exactly how he'd come by his information on pon farr, but out of respect, the Vulcan never mentioned it outright. And, true to form, he didn't wait for Kirk to answer his question before replying to Kirk's own.  
  
"First, an elder, someone very skilled in the mind-meld, must verify the bond. Presumably ours will have been dissolved by then, so I will have to be very carefully bonded with the female. If we are not careful, then we might trigger the plak tow too early, and the ceremony cannot be completed. So, yes. The elder will touch my mind, verify that the bond is in place, and that I am indeed in pon farr. Then the female is given the opportunity to challenge. Presuming she does not, I will touch her mind. The psychic touch cements the marriage bond, completes it and transforms it into its mature form. The physical touch unleashes the plak tow, the blood fever and then..."  
  
Kirk was breathing heavily. He could almost feel the thin, hot Vulcan air in his lungs. "And then?"  
  
"Then we retire. Near my traditional family home, there was a small oasis next to the marriage grounds for this purpose. I do not know what the facilities are like on the colonies. I will stay with the female as long as necessary for the blood fever to pass. Usually several days."  
  
"And what if she challenges?" asked Kirk, although he already knew. He liked to hear Spock speak the words though. It reassured him that Spock could tell him these things, even though he knew very well that outworlders were not permitted this knowledge.  
  
 _"Except for the very few who've been involved,"_  came the old memory.  
  
"If she challenges, then I unleash the plak tow myself. She chooses her champion, and I must duel him to the death. If I win, then the marriage party guard escorts her to the retiring grounds, while I follow. It is not unknown for the male to be so caught up in the bloodlust of the plak tow that after the battle he attempts to consummate with the female on the battleground itself. The guard is there for the female's protection, until she reaches the proper place."  
  
"Sounds dangerous for her," said Kirk quietly.  
  
"It is. Vulcan women are bred to anticipate these dangers, however. They are prepared. They know how to soothe the madness, to allow it to ride its course without sustaining too much injury."  
  
"Injury? Really?" asked Kirk, somewhat surprised. Vulcans were so peaceful; even knowing what he knew about the pon farr, it was difficult for him to imagine any one of them hurting someone they cared about.  
  
"Though it is rare, there have been cases where the copulation after the first plak tow has led to the female's death," Spock confirmed, making Kirk's eyebrows rise considerably.  
  
Kirk let out a low whistle. "I see why the female has to be carefully chosen," he said.  
  
"This is also why Vulcan males can never marry other Vulcan males," Spock added, and Kirk blinked rapidly, caught somewhat off-guard. They were getting dangerously close to a subject that he wasn't sure he was ready to discuss. Nevertheless, he said, "Oh?"  
  
Spock nodded. "If two males bond, then the pon farr in one will trigger the pon farr in the other by the strength of the bond. When the plak tow comes, they will rip each other apart. There has never been a successful marriage coupling of two Vulcan males without at least one being killed in the attempt."  
  
Kirk could feel how that might happen. Though he knew that he himself had no pon farr to fall into, Spock's lust even before reaching the plak tow stage was taking its toll on the human. He could feel the overwhelming need almost as though it were his own, and he thought that if he felt this as strongly as Spock did, in addition to feeling Spock's need through the bond, and Spock feeling his, there would be nothing that could stop them from coming together, so strongly that the heat and pressure between them might swallow up the very universe.  
  
Kirk swallowed, trying to force these images from his mind, knowing that Spock could feel everything - the bond had become extremely sensitive since Spock went into pon farr. The Vulcan watched him impassively, waiting for Kirk to get himself under control. Kirk did, eventually, with a great deal of effort.  
  
"Spock..." he started, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Couldn't bring himself to think it, because it was too much. He knew that one way or another, his life would be changing here, but he couldn't accept it. Not yet. It was too big, too monumental - even speaking of it would change everything, change everything so fundamentally that he wasn't sure he could handle it. So he let the question die before it started, and Spock allowed it.  
  
"We should go to bed. It's getting late," said Kirk, although really, it was not so late at all.  
  
Spock nodded, and though he could tell everything that Spock was feeling, Kirk could not tell what Spock was thinking, and for that he was glad. Because the soft regret and uncertainty that he could feel under the naked, throbbing need that was Spock at the moment was too painful. The softness, the unconditional acceptance of Jim's will, nearly broke his heart. Kirk turned off the viewscreen, cutting off the connection, and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
  
  
"Jim," came McCoy's voice over the communicator. Jim scowled into his pillow. He definitely didn't want to wake up. Nope. There could be nothing good waiting for him.  
  
"Mrgh," he responded, hoping the annoying voice would go away.  
  
"Jim, get up," McCoy's voice insisted. "Admiral Komack is asking for you. He wants to know why you're not on course for Altair Six."  
  
"Grurgh," said Kirk, hoping that McCoy would interpret something from that and give the Admiral an answer. But when McCoy prompted him to get up yet again, he managed enough actual vocal skills to ask, "Didn't you tell him I was sick?"  
  
"Oh, I told him," said McCoy. "It's no good. He wants to talk to you."  
  
Kirk swore under his breath. Ugh. Komack would insist. With some effort he levered himself out of bed, ran a hand through his hair, and sat down at his desk in front of the computer. Only when he'd asked Uhura to patch Komack through did he realize that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Oh well.  
  
"Captain-" the admiral stopped short, apparently startled at Kirk's appearance, but recovered quickly. "Captain, I would like an explanation as to why you are not heading to Altair Six as ordered. This is a very important diplomatic engagement."  
  
"I apologize, Admiral," said Kirk, his voice a bit hoarse. He'd been talking with Spock yesterday for hours. "My first officer and I have been stricken with a rare illness, and we are going to see a specialist on the Vulcan colonies for treatment."  
  
"Yes, so your chief medical officer told me," said Admiral Komack, frowning.   
  
'Then why did you ask me?' Kirk wanted to yell at him, but he carefully kept his composure. "I apologize for the delay, Admiral. We are making best speed, and I hope to be back at Altair before the festivities are over."  
  
"See that you do," said Admiral Komack, his face still set in a scowl. "This is very important, Kirk. We need to send a clear message here. Everyone is watching; if we send a strong message now, it could have ripples clear to the Klingon empire."  
  
"Yes Sir," said Kirk. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Spock was awake. Kirk's own activity probably woke him. It was already growing difficult to think again.  
  
"Very well then," said the Admiral. He gave Kirk a strange, suspicious look. "Feel better," he finally said gruffly. "Komack out."  
  
Kirk stared dumbly at the dark screen for a few seconds, and then hauled himself back into bed, lying on his stomach. Once again, the heat began to rise in his blood. Kirk groaned, and tried his best to ignore it.  
  
  
  
The days passed unbearably slowly. Kirk was constantly aware of Spock now, at all times, whether he wanted to be or not. It was actually rather disturbing. He was quite impressed that Spock was still able to talk in his current state. But talk they did, every day. The presence of the other was the only thing capable of calming either of them.  
  
As the date of their arrival grew nearer and nearer, Kirk's guilt grew accordingly, until finally, the day before they were supposed to set foot on the Vulcan colony of Remus, he finally plucked up the courage to ask.  
  
"Spock are you..." he stared at the computer screen for a few moments, but Spock's expression was impassive, waiting for him to finish the question. "Are you disappointed? That I'm not going to marry you?"  
  
Spock hesitated a moment before replying, but when he did, his voice was remarkably calm. "I have come to terms with the fact that you are human and I am Vulcan, Jim. You have emotional needs that I could never fulfill, despite our bond. I could not... take care of you, as you need. I have accepted this fact."  
  
That wasn't a no, but Kirk didn't press him any further. He knew Spock could feel his guilt, and he could feel the Vulcan's sadness at their impending separation as well. They didn't really need words - there was nothing left to be said.  
  
"I'm sorry," Kirk said anyway. "I know that doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry anyway. I'll miss you."  
  
"I know," said Spock solemnly, staring into him.  
  


  
They had to leave the ship separately. They had intended to travel together, but the moment they came within range of sight, Kirk was so overwhelmed with Spock's need to press forward, the need to touch him, to have him, that he turned and fled. He hadn't really intended to, and he felt Spock's hurt as he rounded a corner in the corridor and pressed himself against the wall, heart beating a mile a minute. But the pon farr was too strong now, impossible to resist, and Kirk knew that he would have to be incredibly careful, or else face consequences he was not ready for.

  
So he let Spock beam down first, waited several minutes, and then beamed down after him. When he appeared, he was struck immediately by the thin, sweltering atmosphere, despite the fact that he had beamed inside a building. He struggled to breathe for a few moments, his breaths larger and deeper to compensate for the lower oxygen. Then, when he was more certain of himself, he examined his surroundings.  
  
The building they were in was more ornamental than he was used to seeing in Vulcan architecture. Vulcans generally favored simplicity - smooth curves and straight lines, fitting together neatly at simple joints. But here he found himself in a room surrounded by ornamental screens, each a carefully carved lattice of winding, twisting shapes. He stepped forward - the far end of the room had several comfortable-looking couches, and gaps in the screens that led out, presumably to hallways or other rooms. All was in varying shades of deep red, like blood, or the desert sand Kirk remembered from countless dreams that were not entirely his own.  
  
An old Vulcan woman stood at the far end of the room, watching him carefully. With a spark of recognition, Kirk realized that he knew her - T'Pau. He'd seen her picture in several articles he'd read at the academy. And beyond that, a memory not his own stirred deeply within him. He hadn't met her before, but Spock had. Old Spock. She had officiated at his wedding. And now...  
  
Kirk blinked, and realized that he could not feel Spock's pon farr. He was aware of Spock's presence - there was none of the crushing loneliness that he'd encountered when Spock had first attempted to suppress the bond - but the insistent heat of the pon farr was completely gone. He felt nothing more than the vaguest hint of Spock, not enough to gauge in any way how the Vulcan was feeling.  
  
"What...?" Kirk asked, unsure as to how to phrase the question.  
  
The old Vulcan woman raised a hand in the traditional sign of Vulcan greeting. Kirk belatedly remembered his manners and echoed it. She was dressed in an extremely elegant formal robe, with a strange black and red headdress. Her eyes on Kirk were emotionless to the point of disdain. "I have blocked the young one from projecting his state." Her voice was strangely accented, in a way that Kirk could not quite place. "This is traditionally done before the Koon'ut Kalifee, so that the woman may make her decision in peace. But I understand that this ceremony is not the reason for thy presence?"  
  
Kirk shook his head, wondering how much she knew already. Had she already looked into Spock's mind? "I... we want to dissolve the engagement bond, so that he can bond with a Vulcan woman. I'm... I'm not suitable for... I don't want..." he trailed off. His thoughts were a confused jumble. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore, especially after nearly a week of being tormented by Spock's needs. He didn't know what he wanted, or even how much of what he wanted was actually what Spock wanted. It had been so long since he'd been able to hear himself think, alone, that he wasn't sure he remembered how.  
  
T'Pau's gaze was cold and rigid. Kirk felt that nothing could possibly be hidden from those impassive eyes. "Such a ceremony presents some danger to thee and thine," she warned. "The mind is not a simple thing, nor the heart. Hast thou considered thy decision?"  
  
"We have," said Kirk. Because they had. This was what they had always intended from the very beginning, though the impending reality of it made his heart ache. He looked around, suddenly uncertain. Where was Spock? This decision was his as well, pon farr or no.  
  
"Spock shall not see thee again until the separation is complete and he wedded to another," said T'Pau. "He is in the chambers of the Male, and thou in the chambers of the Female. Thou shalt meet his bride, as he has requested, and from hence they shall go forth and meet each other, and become one mind. The ceremony must be completed immediately. Little time remains."  
  
Kirk nodded. "What do I need to do?"  
  
"Lie there," T'Pau instructed, gesturing to a soft reclining couch to one side of the room. Kirk did as he was told and lay back, and T'Pau came to his side, looking down on him. She reached a hand forward, and Kirk felt the soft, dry tips of her fingers come to rest on his face. With an almost blissful ease, he felt his mind slide forward at her command, as though he were stepping out of himself. She stepped back, and he followed, except that it was not him, because he was still lying on the cot. It was only his consciousness, wrapped carefully in hers, that traveled.  
  
From his strange vantage in T'Pau's presence, Kirk felt her travel to a small door, built into the screen so as to be nearly invisible. She removed a small key from around her neck and unlocked it, gliding through and closing it behind her. In this room, decorated almost identically to Kirk's, lay Spock on a similar couch. His eyes were closed, and he moved not a single muscle. T'Pau approached him, and placed her other hand on Spock's face, the mirror image to her position on Kirk's.  
  
And then suddenly, the room was gone. Kirk stood in a blinding white desert with Spock directly in front of him, facing him. His face was unreadable, and Kirk could not feel enough of his emotions to tell what was beneath the surface of that mask.  
  
 _"Turn. Turn away."_  The voice was T'Pau's, but she was nowhere to be seen. Kirk wasn't even sure that the words were being physically spoken; he might have heard them only with his mind.  
  
Spock met his gaze solemnly, held it for a moment and then turned his back. Somewhat more shakily, Kirk turned as well.  
  
 _"Thy paths are not to be together,"_  intoned the deep, steady voice.  _"It shall end here, at the Parting of Ways. Walk."_  
  
Almost against his will, Kirk began to walk forward, through the blinding desert. The sun was high, glancing off the white sand and making it nearly impossible to see. He lifted a hand to his face and kept walking. The sand extended all around him - no rocks, no features of any kind. Just endless, endless white sand.   
  
 _"As the day turns to night, as all things grow cold and wither away into nothingness, so also shall this."_  
  
Kirk walked, not sure how far he could make it in the oppressive heat. But momentarily, he realized that this wouldn't be a problem. As he walked, the sun was sinking towards the horizon in front of him. Soon night would fall, and the sands would cool.  
  
As he strode forward, Kirk was aware of thoughts, emotions, fading from his mind. Spock, that beloved presence, was disappearing piece by piece. Not as he had when Spock had tried to block their connection - this fading was hazy. Dream-like. Kirk stopped. Nothing happened. He concentrated on Spock's mind within his own, but there was no answer. The flicker of his presence still remained, but that was all. Kirk kept walking. Pace by pace, the presence faded like a clearing mist. The desert stretched before him, cooling, empty. As far as the eye could see, emptiness, loneliness. He could walk forever alone in this desert.  
  
Kirk looked back over his shoulder, and could make out Spock as a small form in the distance, walking away from him.  
  
 _"Thou must not turn back,"_  T'Pau warned.  _"Walk."_  
  
And so he did. And the sun slipped lower, and lower towards the horizon, and the darkness began to encroach upon the desert. Almost gone - the barest flicker of presence. Just a little farther and he would be alone once more, alone in the desert. Alone in the universe. Alone- Kirk fell to his knees.  
  
 _"Walk,_ " insisted the voice.  
  
"I can't," Kirk gasped. "I can't. Please don't leave me alone. Please..."  
  
 _"Thou must,"_  said the voice.  _"Thou must walk."_  
  
"No!" Kirk gripped his sides, rocking slightly. He felt dizzy. He felt weak, and alone, and unsafe. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to be alone in the desert. He'd felt what it was like to walk with a companion, and he could not be alone again. He couldn't. "Spock," he whispered, "don't leave me. Please, Spock. I don't want this. I need you."  
  
 _"Thy weakness can only hinder him."_  
  
"I don't care!" Kirk screamed at the voice. "I can't do this! I need him! I'll be what he needs, just don't- Spock! Spock, don't leave me alone here!" He struggled to his feet and spun, intending to sprint back, to stop Spock from moving away, but the moment he turned, he found himself right back where they had both started, mere feet away from each other. Spock's back was still turned. In relief, Kirk stretched out his hand, only to find that he was unable to touch the Vulcan. Though Spock was close enough, the length of Kirk's arm could not seem to cover the distance between them, though he reached vainly.  
  
"Spock!" he cried, willing the Vulcan to turn. "Please. Please, Spock. Come back. Don't go out there alone. Please. You can't leave me here." He shouted, stretched out with mind, body, and voice until he ached in every fiber of his being, but still the Vulcan's back remained turned.  
  
 _"He cannot continue if thou dost not. Walk. Turn, and walk."_  
  
"No," Kirk denied softly. "No. It won't end like this. It can't. This can't be how it goes. I don't care if it means I'm weak. I know how this is meant to be, and dammit, he's meant to be with me! He's mine! I've had him this long. No one else can take him from me, you hear me? Do you hear me?! He's been my first officer, my friend, and dammit, he can be my husband too or consort or whatever, if that's what it takes! Do you hear?! I won't let him go!" By this point he was shouting at the sky, daring the voice to contradict him. But no words came. At least, not from her.  
  
"Jim."  
  
Kirk looked back down to see that Spock had turned, and was smiling at him with an expression half sad, half bemused. Only in dreams did Kirk ever get to see that much expression on his face. "You really cannot do anything without making a scene, can you?" the Vulcan said wearily, but there was a fondness in his voice.  
  
"No," said Kirk, smiling back. "I can't."  
  
"You realize what this means?" Spock asked him quietly. "If the bond remains, and we do not consummate it, I will die."  
  
"I know," Kirk replied, swallowing. "So be it. I need you, Spock. If this is what I have to do to keep you, then so be it."  
  
Spock closed his eyes and with a dizzying relief, Kirk felt him again - although still strangely muted - Spock's mild amusement seeping into him. "Then, as you say. So be it."  
  
The desert was gone and Kirk was sitting up on the cot, disoriented. T'Pau was standing a few feet away, and Kirk suspected that had she not been a Vulcan, she would have been scowling.  
  
"Sorry," said Kirk with a cocky half-smirk. 'I'm a human. Humans change their minds sometimes."  
  
"So it is," said T'Pau. "Thou shalt have two hours in which to make thy preparations for the marriage ceremony. Prepare thy body now; thou wilt not have time when the plak tow is upon him. I have left the knowledge of the ritual in thy mind." She bowed her head to him slightly. "I leave thee to ready thyself." And she swept out.  
  
Kirk stared after her, somewhat confused. But, consulting his memories, he found that he did know exactly what was to happen in the ceremony. It was uncanny. Following these new thoughts, he made his way to an ornately-carved cabinet of dark wood on the far side of the room. Throwing open the door, he was startled to see a very wide variety of potions, oils, salves, and similar. He had a moment to wonder what they were for before his mind informed him, and he blushed a crimson to match the walls.  
  
"What have I gotten myself into now?" he muttered. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small, clear vial with a silver stopper. He pulled off the top and sniffed the contents. A mysterious and spicy aroma. He felt the vial warming in his hand to match his body heat.   
  
He replaced the vial and closed the cabinet, unable to deal with the reality of what its contents meant at the moment. Dozens of jars, each liquid with its own purpose, to cleanse him inside and out, to prepare his body for... He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the dark wood. This was real. This was actually going to happen. Why had he- but there was no point in asking that question. He'd done what he had to to keep Spock. And now, he would continue to do what he had to. He already knew that he would die for the Vulcan. What was this, but another way of giving his life for Spock?  
  
Kirk sighed and glanced to the side of the cabinet, where a neatly-folded garment lay innocently on a couch. A ceremonial robe. He'd have to change into it. They were always simple, his mind told him. No point in ornamentation - the garment rarely survived the coupling. Kirk felt himself blushing again, and scowled. No. This might be embarrassing for him, but for Spock it was a life or death situation. He couldn't afford to back out now.  
  
With a sigh, Kirk started taking off his shirt. He'd made his decision. That was the hard part. All he had to do now was follow through with it. Simple, right?  
  
  
  
When T'Pau returned, she was not alone. Several stone-faced guards in ornamental armor accompanied her. Two held strange, shield-shaped arrays of bells, two others bore a throne-like chair in which T'Pau sat. There were also a pair of weapon-bearers, and a man in a black mask who looked like an executioner. T'Pau had changed, exchanging one set of formal robes for another, almost painfully ornate, and removing her headdress in favor of a towering, braided hairstyle.  
  
"Art thou prepared?" she asked, stone-faced.  
  
Kirk took a deep breath. He wasn't. Well, he was physically. But he was very much not ready for what was about to happen, and he knew it. He nodded anyway.  
  
The marriage procession lined up, and Kirk took his place behind T'Pau's chariot. He was wearing the robe they had provided him, sleek, thin, and with very short sleeves. It was cool in the hot atmosphere, much cooler than his Starfleet uniform, and for that he was grateful, even more so as they stepped out of the hot and stuffy building into the even hotter blazing sun that shone mercilessly down on the red desert. Not Vulcan, but so very similar. The colonists had done well.  
  
From the door of the building - the temple, Kirk now realized - they made their way through a rocky pass, great shoulders of red rock heaved up from the ground on either side. They walked only a few minutes before the procession stopped, waiting. The only sound was the harsh jangling of the bells as the two guards in the front shook their instruments. It was a strange sound, harsh, frightening. Kirk frowned, consulting his own new memories to find out why they'd stopped. Ah yes. They were waiting for...  
  
A clear, ominous gong rang out, shimmering through the air around them like heat over the desert. The bell-shakers began to move once more, and Kirk had no choice but to follow the procession. He wondered if the black-masked man standing directly behind him would execute him for cowardice if he ran.  
  
When the pass led them into the arena, Kirk was somewhat surprised to find Spock standing there alone. He knew intellectually that they had had to come by themselves, that no one could have accompanied them without revealing their secret, but his new memories were insisting that the male was supposed to be accompanied. Where were his watchers?  
  
The arena was large, probably thirty or forty feet wide in diameter, and surrounded on all sides by tall upright stones, still and silent, like sentinels. The surface in their midst was sand, but for a raised dais of red rock in the center. On top of the dais was a fire of glowing coals, on which incense burned, flavoring the air with a pungent spice. And above that hung a strangely geometric gong. Kirk knew its sound already as the strangely resonant call that had brought them here.  
  
Kirk came to a stop next to T'Pau. Spock was staring at him, face expressionless as usual. Kirk could hear his own heart thudding painfully loud and fast in his chest. Could Spock hear it too?  
  
The bells stopped. Spock approached T'Pau, his hand raised in greeting, and knelt before her. With her eyelids lowered, the old Vulcan reached forward and pressed her fingertips to his face. Moments later he stood. Kirk wondered what purpose that meld had served - T'Pau had already melded with Spock earlier, must know he was in pon farr, and that he was bonded to Kirk. She had already shielded his mind from Kirk, so his decision was not affected by the pon farr of his betrothed. There was no further reason for the meld.  
  
But that was how it had always been done, and that was how it would always continue to be done.  
  
"Kalifar," T'Pau intoned, pointing toward the gong.  
  
Now was the time he could challenge if he wanted to, Kirk knew. 'Speak now, or forever hold your peace,' he thought. He didn't move. Watched as Spock made his way - were his legs shaking? - to the gong. The bell-shakers followed him, their discordant ringing accompanying his silent footsteps as he lifted a small mallet from its stone pedestal and rang the gong once more. The sound resonated in Kirk's very bones, seized up his lungs for a moment, until its echoes finally died away.  
  
Now T'Pau looked at him, and as before, Kirk felt as though it was impossible to hide anything from that piercing stare. "Kalifar," she said again, this time gesturing from him to the gong. Kirk nodded and stepped forward, heading towards the opposite side of the dais from Spock. For a panicked moment, he wasn't certain what he should be doing. But his new memories were quick to surface, as though T'Pau were steadily guiding him through the ceremony step by step.  
  
At the dais, Spock had already replaced the mallet on its pedestal. Kirk picked it up and rang the gong himself. Nothing else happened while they waited for its echoes to die away. When all was silence and heat once more, T'Pau said "K'rhth'a."  
  
Spock turned to his side, where one of the bell-shakers stood, and Kirk turned to the one nearest himself. The bell-shakers handed them each a small pouch. When Kirk untied the thong around the top, a strong scent, like rosemary and basil and something else he could not quite define, something sharper, rose to his nostrils. He held the bag in his left hand, reached in with his right and withdrew a pinch of the herbs. In unison with Spock, he dropped the herbs onto the coals between them. Immediately the smoke rose from it, scenting the air between them, their clothing, their skin. It made Kirk feel light-headed, but he breathed it in deeply, his lungs desperate for oxygen in the thin air.  
  
The ceremony was not long. Twice more they rang the gong and threw the herbs onto the fire, until Kirk thought he might pass out from the heady smoke. Each time, T'Pau intoned a short verse. Kirk could not make out the meaning. Finally, the Vulcan Elder beckoned them both forward once more. They knelt before her, and she placed one hand on each of their faces.  
  
Kirk felt very little from her, merely a brush of inquiry against his mind. She was checking to see if he was ready, giving him one last chance to challenge. He swallowed and shook his head minutely. Seconds later, he felt the effect of her contact with Spock. She had taken down the barrier against the effects of the pon farr, and Spock's lust hit him like a stone wall, knocking what air he had left from his lungs. Beneath the still calm, almost trance-like exterior, Kirk felt a need that bordered on rage, and a hyper-sensitive awareness of Kirk's presence.  
  
T'Pau opened her eyes and removed her hands, and the two of them stood. The marriage guard assembled once more - the weapon-bearers and throne-men gathered around T'Pau, escorting her back towards the temple, while the bell-shakers took their place in front of the new couple, and the black-masked man behind. They led them out the other side of the arena, and into the desert. Kirk spotted their destination almost immediately.  
  
It was bizarre to see green again after the harsh, dry colors of the desert. But green it was - a solid green dome in the middle of the sandy wastes. As they drew closer, Kirk realized that the dome was in fact made up of strings of small round, flat leaves. Between them he caught sight of dark branches. It was a tree, resembling nothing more than a weeping willow, except that its foliage went all the way down to the ground, and its leaves were of a different shape and slightly different shade.  
  
About twenty feet away, the guard stopped. The bell-shakers shook their bells, three short bursts, and stepped aside. Kirk and Spock moved forward between them towards the tree. Upon reaching it they parted the leaves, and Kirk was astonished at what they found beneath - the entire space enclosed by the tree's leaves was covered in a thick carpet of moss, and the roots on one side enclosed a sizable pool of water. The area was large - perhaps even larger than the arena had been, although much space was taken up in the middle by the tree's massive trunk. On the other side of the tree, across from the pool, someone had placed several vacuum-insulated crates. Food, Kirk realized. And then he was distracted.  
  
Spock had already knelt down on the moss, resting between his heels, and was staring at him again. Kirk quickly followed him, kneeling down across from him.  
  
Spock raised a hand towards him and opened his mouth, trying to speak. But Kirk could feel how difficult it was for him, how overwhelming even the effort to speak past the rising tide of the plak tow. Kirk smiled, somewhat self-deprecating, and took Spock's wrist in his hand - feeling the Vulcan's entire body go rigid with shock and sensation at the light touch - lifting Spock's fingers up to his face. "It's okay," he assured him quietly.  
  
And then suddenly, it wasn't okay. Feeling Spock's lust second-hand was entirely different from the way Spock's mind swept into his, a tidal wave of force, enveloping him and nearly carrying away his own mind. All he could feel was need, want, and he couldn't tell what was his, what was Spock, where he started or ended, whose hands, whose back against the soft moss, the sound of ripping fabric, the desperation of flesh, and the heat, the endless, endless, drowning heat.  
  
  
  
Kirk returned to his senses at some time early the next morning, but it was still half the day before Spock regained his enough to be coherent. When he did, the Vulcan looked with guilt at the mottled bruising that covered nearly every inch of the captain's naked skin. Kirk could feel the guilt very clearly now. The bond was different, now that it had been consummated. Where before he had had vague impressions of Spock's emotions, he now had vivid images, sensations and impressions that were so concrete they were nearly words.   
  
Kirk smiled up at the canopy of leaves above him. Spock's emotions were particularly amusing - intense guilt at the pain he'd caused, but behind the guilt, remaining lust and a sort of puppy-like hope that Kirk might still be willing to give him more. "Give me a second to catch my breath," Kirk told him fondly, and felt Spock flop down onto the moss next to him.  
  
They breathed quietly for a time in silence, feeling out the new bond, testing its strength, its depth. Spock reached over and rested a hand on Kirk's bare chest, and his contentment and pleasure came into sharp focus with the physical contact.  
  
"Tell me about the oasis," said Kirk eventually.  
  
"The Masu'lop, the water tree," said Spock. "We used to have them on Vulcan. They grow near underground water sources. When they are young, they look like a dark, blackened cinder coming out of the ground, as though scourged by fire. But as the roots delve deeper and deeper, they soften the ground and begin to raise the water towards the surface. The leaves grow out from the top of the trunk and shade the area around the tree's base. Out of the hot sun, the symbiotic moss carried under the tree's bark can grow on the now-soft earth, as far as the edges of the canopy. The water comes to the surface and feeds the moss, the moss enriches the soil, and the tree grows bigger. As the tree grows bigger, its canopy increases and the moss spreads, rejuvenating and hydrating the soil further out, and so on. They are partners, the trees and the moss. And the alcoves they create, oases like this one, are much valued by all the area fauna."  
  
"Mm," said Kirk, drowsy, and then huffed as Spock rolled over on top of him. Their skin clung together with sweat.  
  
"Have you caught your breath?" asked Spock, looking eagerly into his eyes.  
  
Kirk smiled.  
  
  
  
"We will have to inform Dr. McCoy," said Spock two days later as they made ready to beam up from the temple.  
  
"We will?" Kirk asked. He wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea. Bones was going to make fun of him for the rest of his life, he was sure of it.  
  
"You will need regular treatment for your wounds while they are healing." Kirk could feel the Vulcan's guilt. "And it will be far easier to explain than to maintain a falsehood. Besides which, if we encounter any other problems later, a medical officer is a valuable ally to have."  
  
Kirk considered all the very useful supplies in the medical bay that might be difficult to get discreetly otherwise and had to agree. "Alright," he said with a sigh. "I'll tell him. Are you ready?"  
  
Spock nodded and reached out a hand, helping Kirk to his feet. Kirk accepted it gratefully, standing stiffly and moving with a limp over to the transporter pad. "Yes, I know. It's alright," he said, as Spock opened his mouth to apologize again. Kirk flipped out his communicator and hailed the Enterprise. "Two to beam up," he said. "Energize when ready."  
  
When they arrived on the transporter pad, Kirk was surprised to find not McCoy, but Uhura waiting for them.  
  
 _Nyota,_  said Spock's mind in surprise. Out loud he said, perfectly calmly, "Lieutenant Uhura."  
  
"Commander," she responded with a nod of her head, and then turned to Kirk. "Captain, Admiral Komack has contacted us several times, wondering where we are."  
  
Kirk swore softly. "Get us on course to Altair Six as soon as possible. I'll handle him later."  
  
"Yes, Captain." Uhura frowned at him. "Weren't they supposed to cure whatever was wrong with you down there? You don't look too good."  
  
"I'm fine," said Kirk. "I just need a quick once-over from Bones. I'm gonna head to sickbay now. Spock, head back to the bridge with her and make sure we get set on course. We can't afford to piss off Komack any further."  
  
"Yes Captain," said Spock. And his mind said,  _Worry. Alright? Alright? Certain?_  
  
Kirk nodded reassuringly at him and walked with them until the corridor diverged and he could make his way into the sickbay, where he sat gingerly on one of the medical cots. "Bones?" he called. "You in here?" He began to gingerly remove his shirt.  
  
"Yeah, I'm comin'. So how did- Good lord, Jim! What happened to you?"  
  
"Not much." Kirk grinned at McCoy as the doctor goggled at his bruises. "It was a hell of a honeymoon."  
  
McCoy scowled at him in silence for a few seconds and said finally, "I can't tell whether you're joking."  
  
"I'm not, Bones."  
  
"You mean to tell me," McCoy began, his scowl deepening, "that we came all this way, and went through so much trouble, so that you and that damned pointy-eared goblin could  _elope_?! Are you crazy?!"  
  
Kirk laughed, but with little humor. "It was a life-or-death situation, Bones. It's a Vulcan thing. I couldn't just... let him die."  
  
"Well, it looks like he very nearly killed you in the process. What in hell's name happened down there?"  
  
So Kirk told him. He left out most of the gory details, but gave him enough to explain the scratches and bruises that covered his body. McCoy had a look on his face like all of this was giving him a headache, and as Kirk continued the look become more and more dour.   
  
When he'd finally finished, McCoy shook his head disgustedly. "I can't leave you alone for two seconds without you getting into some sort of trouble." He made his way over to a cabinet and lifted out three small jars. Stomping back to Kirk, he thrust them at him. "This one's for the bruises, this one's for cuts and scratches, and  _this_  one," he handed it over with a meaningful look, "is for  _friction_  burns."  
  
Kirk couldn't stop a smile, although it was not without embarrassment. "Thanks, Bones."  
  
"Well, congratu-fucking-lations."  
  
  
  
Kirk was somewhat surprised when Spock showed up in his bedroom that night, although he supposed perhaps he shouldn't have been. "What  _will_  people say," he remarked jokingly. Spock remained solemn.  
  
"A Vulcan marriage is binding in the Federation," he replied seriously. "The rule regarding fraternization among officers no longer applies in this case." Kirk smiled and rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Spock continued. "I am here to test a theory."  
  
"Oh?" Kirk reclined comfortably on his bed, as Spock stood somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. He could sense his first officer's uncertainty, and wondered what he could possibly have to be worried about. "And what theory is that?"  
  
"I have come to see if you are still physically attracted to me when I am not in pon farr, and thus not exerting my will upon your psyche."  
  
Now Kirk raised both eyebrows. Was that it? With a start he realized that, given his own behavior leading up to the marriage ceremony, it was not such a wild conclusion to have leapt to. Did Spock really think that Kirk had only slept with him because he'd been lonely and mentally coerced?  
  
"Spock," said Kirk slowly. He patted the bed next to him, and as Spock moved to his side, continued, "I'm not sure what more I could've done to prove how much I need you. And we're married now, so I'm certainly not going to be able to get sex anywhere else, not with the bond as strong as it is. Even if I wasn't attracted to you, it wouldn't mean much." Spock reached his side, and Kirk raised a hand to the Vulcan's neck, using the physical contact to sharpen the bond, to impose his meaning upon Spock as strongly as he could.  
  
"But you are," said Spock in a low voice.  
  
"I am," Kirk agreed. "Maybe it is just a side effect of the bond. I don't know. But regardless of the source, I feel it, and that makes it real. I just have one request." He held up a single finger.  
  
"Yes?" Spock asked, already pushing him down against the bed.   
  
Kirk wondered how on earth he could have any sexual energy left after the three and half days they'd had on Vulcan, but didn't question it. "You let me be the man. At least once in a while."  
  
Spock didn't laugh. He was a Vulcan, and Vulcans did not laugh. But Kirk heard the laugh in his mind nevertheless, and it was the clearest, most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

 

 


End file.
